Personal History
by Someone Who Isn't Me
Summary: The history of Ivan Braginsky as a person and a country. My first attempt at writing a longer Hetalia fanfic.
1. Winter

**Winter**

700 AD

For many years, the little boy had heard the sound of the wind howling outside the walls of his hut. He did not know how many times the winter had come; only that he was afraid of its ferocity.

His mother encouraged this attitude. During the long, cold days, she told him stories about Father Winter and the Snow Queen, both of whom would have liked nothing more than to swoop down on a defenseless child and turn him into a statue of ice. It was no wonder he always stayed inside.

But this year was different. This year, Ivan knew he was special. A month earlier, he'd asked Mother why he couldn't play with the children in the nearby village, and her answer had surprised him.

"Because you're not like them," she had said. "Their lives are as short as mayflies', while we can live forever."

Ivan screwed up his face in thought. He had always known there was something strange about him, and he accepted everything his mother said as truth. It had never occurred to him to wonder how long the villagers lived. Now that he thought of it, they did seem to age awfully fast.

"So does that mean I'm immortal, like Koschei the Deathless? Or are we all some kind of spirits?"

Mother nodded yes and no, respectively. The full truth was much more complicated, but she decided not to burden the boy with the explanation.

This omission was a serious mistake. The idea grew in Ivan's head and swelled his ego to enormous proportions. Outwardly, he acted the way he usually did. He picked sunflowers, played with his sisters, and when the time came, he helped Mother with the wheat harvest.

Several times he used the sickle to nick his hand on purpose, just so he could watch it heal. The blood always stopped within seconds, and the skin would pull itself together right before his eyes.

He had never really noticed this before, thinking that everyone's body worked the same way. But after what his mother had said, he paid attention to every detail about himself that might be out of the ordinary.

Ivan constantly tried to compare himself to the villagers. Once, he even made the hour-long trek to the village so he could watch their lives from the outskirts. When one of the children ran from a snake, Ivan sprang from his hiding place and crushed it with a rock. When he heard that a girl had drowned in the river Volga, he held his head in a bucket of water for ten minutes straight. He felt indestructible, and it began to show.

"What's the big deal?" asked his older sister Katya one day. "I've known for years, and you don't see _me_ strutting around like I own the world!"

"It's different for me," said Ivan, looking down on her from his perch on an unstable rock. "I can become a great warrior one day, and join the tribes of horsemen on their adventures. And I'll never, ever die."

Katya snorted and turned her back on him, gesturing to the smaller girl who sat in the dirt beside her. "Natalia!" she called. "It's getting dark; let's go back home."

Natalia casually stepped on the insect she had been playing with and took her sister's hand. Together, they walked back to the hut, leaving their sibling to his delusions of grandeur.

* * *

><p>This had all happened weeks ago, before the true cold began. Now, winter was preparing to spawn the first blizzard of the season. The children and their mother slept on a shelf over the stove, huddling together for warmth. But Ivan was still awake.<p>

He had another idea, another way to test himself. _What if I went out into the storm? That would definitely prove I'm special. I'll laugh into Father Winter's face!" _

It took Ivan a few more minutes to gather his courage. Some part of him, the small worldly part that had grown over the decades he had been alive, told him what a stupid thing he was going to do. But Ivan ignored that little voice inside his head and tried to pretend it didn't exist at all.

He carefully extricated himself from the tangle of arms and legs that was his family. He jumped off the sleeping shelf, trying to land silently on the dirt floor. He didn't quite manage it, and Mother turned over in her sleep.

Ivan froze, perfectly still, and waited until he was sure no one had been woken. Outside, he could hear the wind whistling over the steppe, but even that forsaken sound couldn't dissuade him.

Before he could convince himself not to, Ivan walked over and opened the door.

He was nearly blown backward by a gust of icy wind. He panicked a bit, knowing how much trouble he would be in if Mother knew what he was planning. But instead of slamming the door shut and forgetting the whole thing, Ivan jumped through it and found himself on the other side.

It was an entirely different world out there. The snow, of course, was nothing new. Ivan had seen that carpet of white cover the earth many times before. But never at night. And never in the middle of a blizzard.

He crouched in the doorway, shivering. Bits of ice stung his exposed face, and he couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction. Though Ivan lived in a northern area, he had never been this cold in his life.

Already, his teeth were chattering. Within a minute, the tips of his ears and fingers were so frigid they burned. Ivan wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back inside, but he had sworn to stay out there until the sun rose.

Ivan forced himself to stand up and start walking. He wasn't quite sure where he meant to go, but he had to get away from the warm temptation of that door. He had to prove his immortality once and for all.

He trudged through the snowdrifts with his head down. He hadn't thought to bring his hat or even the fox-hide coat. All that covered his body was a thin sleeping shirt and a pair of breeches pulled up a little past his waist. This was going to be a very long night.

For the first time, Ivan began to acknowledge the stupidity of what he had done, but it was too late to go back. _What if he actually died out there?_

Ivan pushed against the force of the blizzard. He pushed against the winter itself. Icicles began to form on his eyelashes, and his fingers had gone numb. A tear rolled down his cheek and froze almost instantly.

He had to go home. He had to return to his family and his place in front of the warm stove.

Ivan used his last reserves of strength to start running in the direction he thought was home. He staggered forward, tripping into ditches and scrambling over snow-covered rocks.

Familiar landmarks were obscured by the blowing snow, and he had already given up on trying to see through the gale. With each step, Ivan became less sure that he would be able to find his way back.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Ivan knew that he was well and truly lost. Somehow, he had ended up in the forest to the south of the village, but he didn't know which way he was facing or how to get out.<p>

A normal child would have been dead by then, but Ivan was far from normal. Still, the cold was taking its toll on the boy. His running steps faltered, then slowed to a walk. Minutes later, he stopped moving altogether and sat down in a snowdrift.

He was beyond shivering, almost beyond caring about his plight. He did make an effort to stand once, but the wind pushed him down with particular ferocity. After that, he didn't try again.

Ivan lay in the snow, watching the world through slowly dimming eyes. He thought he saw some sort of spirit floating in front of him, a thing pieced from shards of ice and held together by the wind.

It offered a hand to Ivan, but he couldn't have lifted his own to take it, even if he had wanted to.

"I am Winter," the spirit seemed to say. Its voice was the howling and whistling of the storm itself. "Become one with me, and I will look after my own."

So this was what Mother had warned him about. This was what Ivan should have feared all along.

He didn't know what to do, but it didn't seem very important for him to respond at all. Anyway, he was powerless to raise himself. He couldn't nod or even shake his head.

The whole scene was like something out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare. In a dream, anything could happen. The snow could feel warm, and the spirit of Winter itself could be reaching down to close Ivan's eyes. In a dream…

* * *

><p>Ivan woke slowly, painfully. He was outside. The sun was shining and someone was pouring scalding water all over his body. He wanted it to stop, but he couldn't move to save himself. All Ivan could do was moan through his teeth and try to unclench his stiffened jaw.<p>

The water stopped, and Ivan found that he could open his eyes. Mother's face came into view.

"Ivan," she called. "Can you hear me?"

Once again, he could not respond, but Mother seemed satisfied. Out of the corner of his eye, Ivan noticed Katya and Natalia hovering behind her. The older girl looked nervous, and little Natalia was sucking her thumb.

"Mama?" asked Katya. "Is Ivan alive again?"

Mother nodded and went back to what she had been doing. The water still felt too hot to bathe in, but it didn't hurt quite as much anymore.

Slowly, Ivan realized that he was lying in the meadow beside his family's hut. A small campfire crackled beside him.

Ivan was glad to be back. That blizzard had been a very close call… Too close. He didn't even remember who had saved him or how he had managed to get home the night before.

With every passing minute, his awareness grew. He realized that he was still wearing the same clothes he had taken into the forest, but they were stiff and faded.

Mother began talking softly, almost to herself. "I know this was your best pair of breeches, but I just couldn't get them off. You were so stiff, so cold. It was like handling a figure of wood. Oh Ivan!" she nearly sobbed. "I thought I would never get you back."

Ivan's eyes widened in horror as he realized what his mother was implying. Katya was the first to notice his reaction.

"Yeah," she smirked. Now that Ivan was out of danger, Katya teased him to her heart's content. "You really did it that time!"

Mother gave her a sharp look, but Katya continued.

"Mother was so angry, she said she'd whip you with birch branches. But then we couldn't find you in that awful storm. No one even knew where you were until the snow melted!"

Then Natalia chimed in. "Brother!" she chirped. "You were asleep all winter, but now it's spring. Do you want to play?"

Ivan managed to crack a smile. It seemed he was immortal after all.


	2. Discovery Part 1

**Discovery: Part 1**

* * *

><p>Time passed, but there were no official dates or calendars to measure it by. Slowly, Ivan and his sisters grew older. Katya looked to be around nine now, while Ivan was a boy of six or seven.<p>

Little Natalia underwent the most dramatic change, stretching from a chubby toddler into a young girl of five or so. Mother also looked older, but not in a good way. Her laugh lines had deepened to wrinkles and she had silver streaks in her hair.

Other things changed as well. The hut's roof caved in, and the whole structure had to be rebuilt several times. The little stream that ran beside it dried into a dusty creek bed, thwarted in its quest to become a tributary of the Volga.

The village crept farther and farther from the family's clearing. A hundred years before, it had taken an hour of walking to arrive at the small circle of houses and fields, but now it took more like a day. It wasn't a malicious or purposeful motion, but it isolated Ivan and his family even further.

Ivan could tell the village's distance made Mother uneasy. It was strange, really, because she had warned the children never to visit when it had been nearby. But now she seemed to have had a change of heart. Perhaps she missed the human contact, no matter how superficial.

She would often sit on the log bench in front of the hut, staring off into the distance in the direction of the village. At those moments, she looked ancient, a thousand years old. For all Ivan knew, she was.

Usually, he didn't bother his mother when she got into one of those introspective moods. But this particular time, Mother had been sitting in the same position for nearly the whole day. Ivan and his sisters were beginning to worry.

"Mother?" asked Katya, walking in front of her. "Are you all right?"

She didn't react, only glanced around her daughter so she could keep the forest in sight. Katya asked again and got the same reaction. Natalia stood quietly next to Ivan, sensing something was wrong.

Finally, Katya threw up her hands in exasperation. "I just can't do anything with her! This is really starting to worry me… Ivan, why don't you try?"

Ivan nodded solemnly and took his sister's place. He knelt down in front of Mother and looked hard into her eyes. Usually, his intense stares annoyed her to no end. She often told Ivan that the sensation of his eyes on her felt like someone was sitting on her soul.

But this time, his piercing look has a positive effect. Mother seemed to snap out of whatever trance she had been in.

"Vanya," she nearly moaned. Ivan noticed that she was using the affectionate form of his name, which she hadn't done for some time now. "I have walked these plains since men lived in caves, and I have done nothing worthwhile. Nothing that will be remembered."

"That's not true, Mother," said Ivan, trying to comfort her. "You created us, and we can help you leave your mark on the world."

"No." The darkness in his mother's voice surprised him. "It's time you all knew."

The two girls drew closer together in fear, and even Ivan shrank back a little. He sensed that his mother was about to unleash some sort of secret, something she shouldn't be revealing at all.

"I found you," she said bitterly. "Each one of you. Just when I thought I would be alone forever, I found Katya lying in a bush. Ivan, you were under a tree in the forest. Natalia… Natalia was on the doorstep."

Ivan listened, eyes wide with disbelief. He hadn't questioned her when she had told him he was immortal, but he'd been younger and his mother had been in a much more rational state of mind.

She continued, ranting. "I've had men in my bed since before there were beds, but I have never given birth to anything. How do I know you're even my children?"

Natalia's eyes were filling with tears. The little girl clutched the hem of Katya's dress, hanging on for dear life.

Katya looked just as shocked. "But Mother!" she protested. "We all look like you, don't we? That must count for _something!"_

Mother just sighed and shook her head sadly, as if her children were idiots and she was the only one who understood some fundamental truth about the world.

"Never mind that now. Whatever you are and whoever you belong to, I still love you. I just can't understand why you _exist_!" Her voice rose to a screeching crescendo, but there was no anger in it. She seemed bewildered, as if she couldn't recognize her own life.

Ivan had always thought of his mother as a mountain. She was a vast, immovable pillar of stone. She was the only thing that had stayed constant throughout his life, but now something was cracking her from within.

"I thought I would be wiser by now," she said. "Yet I still don't know what our purpose is. Why are we still alive?"

"Maybe we should go out into the world," said Ivan. "Maybe we will be able to find some answers for you."

He had always wanted to go on an adventure, to see what lay beyond the forest and meadow. Now he had an incentive, a quest.

Mother's eyes took on a faraway look. She was having similar thoughts, but for different reasons. "Yes…" she said slowly. "Perhaps you should."

Of course, Katya protested, but it made no difference. By the next morning, it was decided that the girls would stay and watch Mother, while Ivan went to seek what answers he could.

As Ivan walked, he reveled in the feeling of being alone. He was worried about Mother, but it was nice to get away from the stifling atmosphere of home. His stride was loose but purposeful, covering as much ground as his short legs would allow. Despite the circumstances of his journey, Ivan hummed a little tune as he walked.

The day dragged on and the sun moved overhead. Ivan felt like there was a faster way to get to his destination, but it eluded him. His feet were aching by the time he sighted the thatched roofs of the village.

A small boy was playing in the dirt beside the nearest hut. He was a typical Slavic child, with dark coloring and ruddy cheeks. The boy looked to be around Ivan's age, but Ivan knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving.

Ivan stopped walking and tried to fade into the background, but he had already attracted the boy's attention. The child and the not-child stared at each other, eye to eye, like two animals trying to distinguish between friend and foe.

The village boy was the first to respond. He took a step forward and all but cocked his head sideways at Ivan, reinforcing the image of a timid beast.

"Are you a stranger?" asked the boy. "Or a spirit who lives in the forest?"

Ivan giggled, then wished he hadn't. The boy seemed afraid of him now, but it was just too funny. Ivan had seen spirits before, and they didn't look anything like he did. How could someone be so naïve?

The boy frowned, seeming to realize that Ivan could be a threat. He turned toward the center of the village, probably to call for help.

"Wait!" yelled Ivan. If the boy panicked and ran to his parents, the whole village would descend on Ivan with torches and pitchforks. Ivan's own mother had been driven out of several settlements this way, and she compared angry humans to a swarm of bees.

_Please_, Ivan thought. _Don't do it, don't go in there, don't be afraid…. _

The boy stopped and looked around uncertainly. It was as if he was responding to Ivan's silent prayers. Surely, that wasn't possible, but Ivan was desperate. He tried again, this time making a conscious effort to direct his thoughts at the boy.

_Come here_, he said in his mind. _I promise not to hurt you_.

The boy turned to face Ivan. The look of fear had simply slipped off his face, replaced with an open curiosity.

"Let's go in together," said the boy. "I want to introduce you to my mama."

The villagers were instantly suspicious of Ivan. They rarely saw visitors, especially ones so young. But once they guarded him for several hours and realized he wasn't a scout for a band of raiders, they were much more sympathetic.

An old matron asked after his family, and Ivan vaguely motioned toward the woods. The woman clucked and shook her head. "Poor child," she whispered to another woman. "Living in the forest like an animal."

Ivan heard and was rather insulted, but he kept his mouth shut. Who was she to judge the circumstances of his life?

Several small children clustered around Ivan, staring at the curiosity in their midst. Ivan was only a boy, like them, but he had walked out of the Great Forest without falling victim to any of the things their parents had told them about. To them, Ivan must have been some kind of hero.

Ivan didn't feel like a hero. He was still nervous about the villagers' intentions, and beginning to doubt the possibility of finding the answers he was seeking.

He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting from the place, but this wasn't it. The village itself was nice, larger than he was used to, but the people saddened him. Their purpose was to live, have children, and die. What could they know about immortality?

Ivan spent his first night in the village on the floor of the central hut. The people gave him a blanket to lie on, and the weather was pleasant enough for this to be a convenient arrangement.

The door to the hut wasn't locked or guarded, but Ivan had no wish to leave. Again he worried about his mother, and wondered how Katya was coping with her idiosyncrasies. Ivan's last thoughts before sleep took him were of his family.

He was woken abruptly by the sound of the door cracking against the side of the hut. This was followed by the clopping sound of heavy boots. They came closer and closer, until Ivan was afraid their owner would tread right over him.

Ivan opened his eyes and threw his arms out in front of him in the same motion. He found himself looking at the most frightening man he had ever seen.

The stranger towered over him. He was built like a tree trunk, with huge muscles and iron-toed boots. The man wore a metal helmet and heavy leather armor. He had blue eyes and a long, grayish beard.

"Are you the Kievan Rus?" The stranger's voice was like the rolling of thunder. It was loud, ominous, and completely inexplicable.

"Well, I think I live in it…" Ivan began.

A terrifying look crossed the huge man's face. Ivan couldn't for the life of him understand what he had said wrong. The man grabbed Ivan by the arm and dragged him to his feet. Ivan tried to influence the man the same way he had spoken to that boy the day before, but it was useless.

The man's expression didn't soften in the slightest, and he continued to hold Ivan while he looked him up and down. Ivan had been trying to be brave, but his fear built to a crescendo.

"Help!" he screamed to the sleeping village. "He-"

The man pressed a rough-skinned hand over Ivan's mouth and tried to drag him away into a corner, but the villagers had already rushed out to form a circle around the pair. They hadn't had time to light torches, but they were brandishing the iconic pitchforks that haunted Ivan's nightmares.

"Rus," said the man holding Ivan. "Calm your people." He sounded completely unperturbed, as if he was standing among a group of children with sticks.

Ivan found himself unable to do anything to influence the situation. Anyway, he wouldn't have attempted to 'calm the people' even if he could. The villagers were all that was standing between him and this madman.

"Viking," said one of the village men warningly. "Put down the boy. Your people have come to rule us, not steal our children."

"Do you see what you've done?" said the man that Ivan now knew to be a Viking, whatever that was. Ivan realized that the Viking was talking to _him_, not the villagers. "For once, I wasn't even trying to pillage, but now these animals must be dealt with."

The man loosened his hold on Ivan to reach for a huge battle-axe strapped to his back.

Something inside Ivan snapped. He had known these people for less than two days, but he felt some sort of strange connection with them. He just couldn't bear to see them slaughtered.

He lunged forward and managed to tear the Viking's hand from his mouth. "No," he gasped. "Don't kill them!"

The man paused with his axe raised, looking rather amused.

At that moment, the whole village threw itself upon the Viking. A woman's sickle slashed his arm, and one of the pitchforks caught him in the side. He stood perfectly still, making no move to defend himself.

Ivan jumped away from the frenzy. The Viking was terrifying, but he had seemed to know something about Ivan that the boy himself didn't realize. Much as he hated to admit it, he _needed_ that man.

Instead of trying to shout over the commotion, Ivan found another way to get the message across. He thought of peaceful, quiet things, like the sunlit stillness of his family's clearing. Despite the adrenaline rushing through his own veins, Ivan sent these images to the villagers.

Their reaction was neither instant nor complete, but within a minute or so their ferocity diminished enough for the Viking to throw them aside like rag dolls. Ivan watched, heart in his throat, but the huge man hadn't caused any serious injuries.

As the villagers picked themselves off the ground, confused as to what they were doing and why they were there, the Viking motioned for Ivan to follow him. Together, they left the village. No one bothered them on their way out, or even seemed to notice they were there. Ivan stayed silent until they were well clear of the settlement.

"Viking, what was that all about?" he asked angrily, nearly forgetting his earlier fear.

"First of all, my name is Vikingr. A Viking is what I _am_."

"What's a Viking, anyway?"

"You should be more worried about yourself. I have never met a place that is so utterly backwards!"

"I'm a person, not a place," said Ivan. He was bewildered, unsure if he was the one being stupid or if Vikingr was utterly insane.

Vikingr gave Ivan a look that was something close to sympathy. "No, child. You are the spirit of the Kievan Rus."

* * *

><p>So... did anyone like it? please review if you think I should keep writing this.<p> 


	3. Discovery Part 2

**Discovery: Part 2  
><strong>

Once the initial shock wore off, Ivan quickly grew comfortable enough with Vikingr to press him for more information. He followed the Viking like a puppy, entranced by everything that issued from his mouth. Vikingr walked as he talked of people and nations, taking enormous strides that the boy could hardly keep up with.

Ivan wasn't exactly paying attention to such trivial things as the scenery. He just assumed that they were making a loose circle around the village. It took him nearly an hour to become aware that they were traveling farther and farther from home.

"Where are we going?" he asked suddenly.

The Viking furrowed his brow. "I'm taking you to Novgorod. Didn't I say so already?"

Ivan snapped out of a trance he hadn't realized he was in. Vikingr seemed like a miraculous figure, someone who knew the secrets of the universe. Ivan had been following him blindly, but he had to assert his priorities.

"But what about my family?"

"Eh, humans. You would have had to leave them anyway."

"You don't understand," pleaded Ivan. "They're like us!"

At this the Viking paused, thinking. "I wonder what they could represent…" he muttered, almost to himself. Then he spoke to Ivan. "You know what? It doesn't matter. You're my territory now, and you're coming with me."

"But…"

"Look, child, I know you're worried. But I could teach you a way to make sure they are all right."

Ivan wasn't reassured in the slightest, but he decided to go along with Vikingr. Perhaps he would learn something useful. Vikingr took his silence as acceptance. "All right!" he said. "First, close your eyes."

Ivan did so.

The Viking chuckled. "Open them, boy! This isn't black magic or Eastern meditation. Just think of your family. Concentrate on whoever is in it. Try to _feel _where they are."

Ivan scowled at the trick, but tried to do what Vikingr said. First, he thought of Katya. He remembered how she always tried to imitate Mother. How she teased but never meant it. The way she insisted on cutting her hair.

He began to miss his sister even more than he had before, but felt nothing especially unusual.

Then Natalia. Ivan imagined her constant cheerfulness. The feeling of her small hand in his. That funny crooked smile she had, with one corner of her mouth higher than the other. Still nothing.

Finally, he thought of Mother. He had always seen her as something immense, immovable. As unaffected as a mountain. But she had been acting so strange lately, so distant and disillusioned. She had sent him away without batting an eyelash. Where was the Mama who told him stories and always made sure he was all right?

Ivan reached for her, tried to sense her location with his mind. And _then _he felt something. It was like a current running through him, an invisible energy he hadn't known existed. It was in the world around him, present in each tree and blade of grass. He seemed to hear rivers rushing with each beat of his heart.

The feeling clarified, and spilled over into vision. Even though Vikingr had told him not to, Ivan closed his eyes. He felt an invisible bond that linked Katya, Natalia, and himself. Together, they formed a glowing formation on the inside of Ivan's eyelids. This circle of energy spread over the people of Rus like a net. Every human was a pinpoint of energy, a tiny light against the darkness. But someone was missing.

Ivan searched for Mother, and found her to be outside the circle. Her light was dim, flickering, no brighter than a human's. Ivan knew without a doubt that something was terribly wrong back at the clearing, and Ivan would forever blame himself if he didn't investigate.

He opened his eyes, breaking the pattern. Ivan didn't have time to appreciate the vision, only respond to its significance.

He had no idea that it was the first and last time he would be so in tune with his country.

Vikingr smiled at him, unaware of what Ivan had seen. "Congratulations, boy! You're-"

Without words or explanations, Ivan turned and ran in the direction of home. Vikingr would probably follow within a second, but Ivan didn't care. With every step, his conviction grew. He had to get to Mother before it was too late.

The forest melted around him, trees blending into each other. Birds scattered at his every footstep. The only sounds Ivan could hear were his own breathing and the beating of his heart.

He sprinted faster and faster, only aware of his purpose. Without knowing it, Ivan slipped onto the Hidden Road, that strange dimension his kind used to travel within their territories.

He did not feel any change, any sensation but desperation and speed. Yet, only several minutes into a journey that should have taken hours, Ivan found himself near home.

Shocked, he stopped for a second, grabbing a branch to avoid pitching forward. He looked behind him to check if Vikingr was following him. There was no sign of the huge man anywhere. Then Ivan tore into the clearing.

It was as if the day before had never happened, as if he had never left. Mother sat in the same place, on the same log, but her head lolled limply to one side. Natalia crouched beside her on the ground, holding her hand.

Katya came up to meet Ivan, grabbing him by the shoulders. Instead of fear, her face showed a deep sort of sadness that came from swallowing misfortune.

"What's wrong?" Ivan panted. "What happened to Mother?"

"She won't move. She won't speak. I think she's… dying."

Ivan was enraged by what seemed to be casual acceptance. "How could that _happen_? Our land is whole, our people are alive, our-"

Katya blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Ivan had no time to explain his revelation. Instead, he ran to Mother and kneeled in front of her in the same posture as the day before. _If he answered her question, she would live. If he told her what she was, she would stand up and forget everything that had happened. _

"We're nations!" he blurted, words coming out in a rush. "We're the land and the people and the animals and the spirit of this place."

This made her raise her head to look up at Ivan. There was a hint of surprise on her face, but it quickly changed to the same sort of resignation Ivan had seen from Katya. "No," she said weakly. "Not we."

"Then who is?" The question came from Natalia, who had been listening.

Mother gestured to all three of her children.

Suddenly, Ivan understood. His mother was a creature of the past, a symbol who hid from everything she personified. Ivan and his sisters were the future of the Rus.

When his mother's answer finally came, it wasn't much of a surprise. "You."

Then her head pitched forward and she spoke no more.

Ivan and Katya froze at the finality of it. Natalia was the first to react.

"Mama!" she wailed like the lost child she was. "Wake up!"

She shook Mother's arm, growing more and more frantic, but there was no response. Katya gently took her by the hand and led her away.

Then, just to make sure, she checked for a pulse. Katya drew back her hand instantly, horror written all over her face. A strangled whimper escaped her throat. "Look…" she whispered.

And Ivan did.

Right before their eyes, something strange was happening to Mother's body. Her face looked unusually colorless, even for a dead person, and her dress was somehow falling _through_ her skin. When Ivan looked at what remained of his mother's face, he could see clear through to the tree behind her.

Mother was there, and then she wasn't.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Please review if you liked it :)<p> 


	4. Pretending

The last freeze had broken like a fever. The first buds were blooming in the trees, and spring wasn't far behind. Everything was thawing, but Ivan's house had never been frozen in the first place. So why were there trails of water on the floor?

Ivan walked into the main room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He frowned slightly when he saw watery trails all over the clay tiles.

"Aleks?" he called into the hallway from which he'd come. The innkeeper didn't respond. The poor man was probably still asleep after all the mead he had drunk the night before.

Anyway, it wasn't like Aleks to track water into the house. And Ivan himself obviously hadn't done it. That meant it could only be...

"Winter. Have you come to say goodbye for the year?"

Ivan turned around as he spoke, and found the spirit hovering behind his left shoulder. It had changed greatly since Ivan had first seen it in that blizzard. The figure had fleshed out, had become a thin ghostly man with skin as white as a corpse's. Winter wore a white fur coat, and his eyes burned blue with a frightening intensity. But on that particular day, he wasn't looking very well. His mustache drooped, his eyes were dull, and drops of icy water fell from his indistinct fingertips. Winter was on its way out.

Despite his condition, Winter smirked at Ivan. "I will be back again before you can blink I will ravage your land again and again and-"

"Just go," interrupted Ivan. "Go wherever seasons disappear to when their time is over."

Winter bristled. "I do not _disappear_," he said haughtily. "I merely visit other places. There are lands in the world that you could never even conceive of..."

Ivan forced a yawn, putting on a show of indifference. Then he put his thumb between two fingers of his right hand, giving Winter the fig. Briefly, he wondered if he had gone too far with the rude gesture.

"Brave boy, taunting Winter," hissed the spirit, confirming Ivan's suspicions. "Next year, I will save my wrath just for you."

Ivan was actually about to apologize, but Winter had already blown past him out the door.

He was drying the floor with a cloth when Aleks came out of his room. He greeted Ivan in usual manner; casual but friendly. "Nice to see you up so early," the man remarked. "What have you been up to?"

"I couldn't sleep," lied Ivan. "So I went outside to check on the weather. Guess I brought some water back with me..."

"That's all right," said Aleks. "Just one thing... I could swear I heard you talking to someone earlier."

"You must have dreamt it," Ivan said, still drying the floor. "There was no one here at all."

* * *

><p>Aleks didn't know anything. At least, nothing about Ivan or his origins. He thought the boy was an orphan, and that was technically true. Ivan's mother was a hundred years dead, and he had never, to his own knowledge, had a father.<p>

Ivan had come to Aleks the winter of the year before. He just showed up at the inn, dripping wet after a visit to Southern lands that had not yet frozen. He needed a place to rest for the night, and the inn was as good as any. By then, Ivan was used to thinking of himself of an adult, but to Aleks he seemed like a lost little boy. To the innkeeper, Ivan was a pitiful and bewildering sight.

But Aleks was a kind man, and he had given Ivan a room for the night. Ivan liked the inn, liked the man who owned it. He decided to settle down and just... relax for a while. He knew an opportunity when he saw it, so he played up the lost-and-alone bit, pretending he had lost his memory.

So far, the ruse had worked. But it had been more than a year already, and Ivan knew he would have to leave soon. After all, people would notice a boy who never grew older, never aged or changed.

* * *

><p>"You." Aleks spoke gruffly, but not unkindly. "Get me some bread from the market. If a guest comes now, we'll have nothing to feed him."<p>

Ivan nodded and redirected his feet toward the door. He blinked for a moment in the morning sunlight, then started off toward the market in the center of the residential district. He was proud of the way things in this city were situated, proud even though he'd had no part in its planning or construction. Though the Kievan Rus had no official capital, Ivan considered Novgorod to be his personal center.

Ivan reached the market a little later than usual. He went straight to the largest bread stall, which in earlier generations had sold cut stalks of wheat and would probably become a full-blown bakery in a few more decades. He greeted the old vendor, making sure to wear the innocent expression of a child. The baker smiled when he saw Ivan, and asked for several more coins than he should have. As usual, Ivan pretended not to notice.

He made his way back with a steaming loaf in his arms. The sky above him was a deep brilliant blue, with the exception of one tiny black cloud that seemed determined to cross the horizon. Ivan took his time coming home, not thinking much of the weather until he felt the first raindrop on his cheek. Two more followed in the next second. They quickly gave birth to twenty and two hundred and, within a minute, Ivan was soaked to the skin in a sudden downpour.

He cursed Perun, the god of lightning and thunder, and kept the bread under his arm in an attempt to keep it dry. The rain passed as quickly as it had come, but it was too late for the soggy lump Ivan held in his hands. He couldn't go back to the market; he had been conned out of the bit of money that may have been enough to buy more. Next time, he resolved, he would let the mask of innocence slip just enough to correct the baker's 'mistake'.

But at the moment, there was nothing Ivan could do. He returned to the inn, still wet, and knocked on the door. When Aleks came to open it, a strange look came into his eyes.

"Now, look at this," he said. "Not a cloud in the sky, but my boy here comes back soaking wet. Well, at least it's not the dead of winter," he said, alluding to the first time they had met.

Ivan apologized. "It was just this tiny cloud, but it followed me like it had a mind of its own."

Aleks' brow furrowed in thought, emphasizing the wrinkles that had started to form on his face. "Perhaps it was some kind of message from Perun. I don't know what he would want with a boy, but this is the second time he has left an unusual mark on you. Are you sure you don't remember what happened to you a year ago?"

Ivan gave him a blank look, but Aleks continued. "You know, before you showed up at my doorstep?"

Ivan's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Don't you want me to get another loaf of bread?"


End file.
